The Patron Saint of Discord
by Lady Galilea
Summary: We all know Lavender best as Ron's over-enthusiastic girlfriend, and of course, the bane of Hermione's existence, but what if another layer was added to the story? What if Hermione and Lavender had a shared history, a past, a story in common? The story is waiting to be told. . .
1. Chapter 1

**Hello, my darling readers!**

**I was thinking about Lavender Brown and Hermione Granger, and then I started thinking about Hermione's childhood, and then I read a story prompt about a character trying to start fresh, and them knowing someone whose their from their past, and then POOF- a plot bunny wormed its way into my brain...**

**...so here it is. **

"Sweetheart, you're going to have fun, I promise," Ellen Granger attempted to pry her seven year old daughter off of her. Hermione, her thick, absurdly thick, brown hair puffed around her face, and she clung desperately to her mum.

"Darling, its only the first day of school! There's absolutely nothing to be worried about!" George Granger stood next to his wife, frowning slightly. Standing in the front courtyard of St. Adeleide Academy for Girl's (the premier girl's school in the south Winchester area, and a very good place indeed, especially paid for on a dentist's wages, as Mr. Granger was very happy indeed about) with a hysterically sobbing daughter was _not_ where he wanted to be at 10:00 on a fine morning in early September.

"I don' want to _gooooo_!" Sobbed Hermione, tugging at her blouse and ignoring the tears streaming out of her big brown eyes.

"Oh, is your daughter having some….parting issues?"

The entirety of the Granger family turned to see a woman in a pristine light pink skirt suite with an immaculately coiffed cropped mane of light brown hair standing beside them. At her side, a girl who looked about Hermione's age giggled rather foolishly and played with a lock of her long, glossy light brown hair.

"Err, yes, I suppose…" Mr. Granger turned rather awkwardly back to his daughter, who had begun to wail loudly.

The woman turned right along with him, not taking the hint _at all_, in Mr. Granger's mind. "Hmm. My Lavender never had those problems- she got in early, you see, so this is her second term. Where've yours been in school?"

"In school? I beg your pardon... This is year 1!" Mrs. Granger detached herself from her daughter and turned to look rather bemusedly at the other woman.  
"Oh." The woman paused, and gave the Granger's a rather patronizing look. "Well, I can understand if a child has…._special needs_-" She looked meaningfully at the sobbing girl clinging to Mrs. Granger, "- It would be the best option, in which case you should speak to Ms. Larker, the Headmistress about special care options."

"Our daughter- special needs- I beg your pardon, Mrs-?" Mrs. Granger crossed her arms furiously.

"That's Brown, by the way. And please, do not think I was insulting your daughter. I'm sure she's….." Mrs. Brown cast a disapproving look at Hermione, whose hair had frizzed up more than usual, puffing out of it's long ponytail, causing the ratty brown hairband to strain. Her face was scrunched up and red from cyring, and her neat little blouse and skirt were both tearstained. Mr. and Mrs. Granger had decided not to go for new shoes to, especially considering thetuition at St. Adeleid's, assuming only that her old pink and blue trainers would work fine. Under the peircing gaze of Mrs. Brown, however, Mrs. Granger was starting to wish that she'd forgone her monthly hair cut, and gotten new shoes for Hermione. "-I'm sure she's lovely," finished Mrs. Brown, smirking just slightly.

"Mummy, we need to go. I'm reading aloud for the year 7's very shortly." The little girl, Lavender, smiled angelically.

"So you do, Lavvy darling. So you do…." Mrs. Brown smirked smugly at the Grangers, before saying. "My Lavender learned to read as a two-year-old. I understand that children can't generally do that, so I'm careful to make sure that she doesn't brag. Not that she does, anyway. "

"I can read, too." Hermione had brushed the tears out of her face, and was glaring at Lavender.

"Can-you-sweetheart?" Asked Mrs. Brown patronizingly, very slowly and clearly too, as if Hermione was hard of hearing.

"Yes. I read Pride and Prejudice last week. And I can hear fine, Missus. There's no need to talk to me that way. And stop infantilizing me, too." Hermione glared up at Mrs. Brown, from her grand, total height of four feet.

"My Hermione learned to think for herself when she was born. I understand that children can't generally do that," quipped Mrs. Granger, returning Mrs. Brown's smug look with one of her own.

"Well-Well-" Mrs. Brown swept Lavender around, turned to glare at the Granger's, and flounced away.

"Now, my darling girl, shall we go see about the school?" Mr. Granger smiled, taking his daughter by the hand.

"Ok, daddy," Said Hermione cheerfully, skipping along, all of her tears forgotten.

Mrs. Granger followed, smiling, although she felt slightly nervous about sending her daughter to school with that Lavender Brown girl. She'd seemed a right pest. And after that nasty experience at St. Alabansburry Primary. . . Mrs. Granger shook her head to clear away pessimistic thoughts. The incident with the supposed 'flying, stabbing' pencils was obviously a made up story, a spiteful tale made up by the girls that bullied her Hermione. But all the same, a new beginning was just what they all needed.

So, Lavender Brown or no Lavender Brown, St. Adeleid's would be perfect.

After all, they needed it to be, for Hermione.

_Aloha, my dears. _

_I'll try to update in the next week- we are looking at about 5 chapter, really. Not much, and spanning a few years. _

_Whad'ja think?_

_If you hated it, loved it, didn't get it, thought it was a waste of your time..._

_Lemme know in a... [...drumroll please...] ... REVIEW!_

_They are LOVE, people. _

_And you all love, me, right? :D_

_Until next time, _

_Lady G_


	2. Chapter 2

**Wotcher, everyone! (as Tonks would say)**

**Woohoo! Another chapter. I hope you like it!**

* * *

It was mid September, and the class before recess. Miss Parker's Year 1 Maths class was more chatty than usual, Miss Parker raising her hands to shush the class every five minutes. She was trying to teach them how to multiply two digit numbers, but hardly any of the twenty-two girls seemed to understand.

"Now, who wants to tell me what the answer to the question is?" Miss Parker asked patiently, smoothing her short, blonde hair, and pointing at the equation she had drawn on the board.

"Ooh!" Hermione Granger's hand shot into the air, and Miss Parker resisted rolling her eyes. It had only been two weeks since she'd started at St. Adeleide's, but Hermione had raised her hand for every question, all the time, and then proceeded to wave her hand and bounce up and down until she was called on.

At the same time, Lavender Brown raised her hand, smiling primly.

Miss Parker smiled. Now _there _was a girl who knew how to behave in class.

"Yes, Lavender. Can you tell me what the answer is?"

"The answer is four-hundred and twenty-three, Miss Parker." Lavender smiled out from under her long lashes, and brushed her smooth, wavy hair out of her eyes.

"Very good, Lavender." Miss Parker beamed at Lavender and neatly wrote the answer in.

Lavender nodded happily, and then turned slightly in her seat, and smirked slightly at Hermione.

"Ok, girls, one last question. Who wants to explain-"

Hermione's hand had already shot up, into the air.

"Really, Hermione, I haven't even finished asking the question!" Miss Parker ended up sounding quite a bit angrier than she meant, and Hermione flushed dark red, and stared furiously down at her desk.

"All right, girls, I suppose I'm not going to get much across now. You may all take your recess now." Miss Parker sighed, and began to wipe off the chalkboard.

The class collectively jumped up and dashed out of the classroom.

As Lavender left, though, she smirked in Hermione's direction and flipped her glossy hair over her shoulder.

Hermione stiffened, and turned on her heel and walked away.

From across the room, Miss Parker sighed again, and turned back to the board. Lavender and Hermione were such bright girls, both of them, really, and it was a real pity that they didn't get along.

* * *

Hermione was sitting on the closed toilet in the bathroom, her legs crossed, rubbing her eyes angrily. She _would not_ cry, she told herself firmly, even as a hot tear worked it's way out of her sad brown eyes and slowly traced it's way down her cheek. Why did Lavender hate her so much? She was just being herself. . .

Hermione sniffed, and stared miserably around the small stall that she was ensconced in. She'd been spending an awful lot of a time there since school started. She had no idea why, but all of the girls seemed to dislike her, not just stupid Lavender. Another tear slid down her face as she thought of the smirking smiles on the faces of the other Year 1 girls.

Suddenly, there was the sound of the door opening, and a girl's giggle as she entered the bathroom.

Speak of the devil, thought Hermione, using a phrase she had just learned. It was Lavender.

"That Hermione girl is just plain pathetic, isn't she, Lillian?" Lavender's unmistakable voice made Hermione's stomach clench with pure, absolute hatred.

Lillian, Lavender's best friend, giggled, and said something Hermione couldn't quite hear, and then-"Well, I'd better go, Lavvy."

"Bye, Lil," chirped Lavender.

There was the creaking sound of the door opening and shutting, and then there was silence, besides the light patter of Lavender's feet on the green tile floor of the bathroom.

Hermione's jaw clenched. She could just imagine Lavender prancing about, playing with her hair and staring vainly at her image in the mirror.

She wiped away her tears, burning anger beginning to eat away at her sadness.

She stood up, brushed some crumbs off her school skirt, and opened the stall's door.

"Hello, Lavender," she said, using the voice her mummy used when she was angry.

"Hi, Hermione!" Lavender's words were kind enough, but she had a nasty look on her face.

"Lavender, why do you hate me so much?" Hermione crossed her arms.

Lavender giggled, and then said with a smirk: "Because you're a dumb muggle."

Hermione was taken a back. "A-what?" She'd never heard that word before, not in any books, and not that her mummy and daddy had ever said. Maybe it was dirty word- that would be why mummy and daddy never said it, but still.

"Oh-no! I shouldn't have said anything!" Lavender's hands flew to her mouth in horror. Her eyes widened, and her face paled. Even her glossy hair seemed to frizz up a bit in fear.

"Why not?" Asked Hermione curiously, uncrossing her arms.

"Its not allowed," was Lavender's only reply.

"Tell me! You called me that, now I have a right to know!" Hermione re-crossed her arms, and did her best version of the voice her daddy used when he was arguing about payments at his office.

"Fine!" Said Lavender, "but you can't tell anyone. Lets go in the stall."

Hermione followed Lavender into the bathroom stall, her heart hammering in anticipation.

"Ok . . ." Lavender took a deep breath. "You see, a muggle is . . . "

* * *

_Left you with a cliff-hanger, I did. _

_And guess what? If you wanna know what happens next, you need to follow this story. _

_And if you want a fast update, you need to review. _

_::Mwuah-hah-hahahahaha!:: *mad laugh*_

_Actually, I don't even care if you want a fast update. No matter what, if you read this, please write a goshdarned review. _

_lOvE aNd StUfF_

_Lady G_


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello all. **

**Another chapter. Hurrah for fast-ish updates. :D**

**I just want to thank cc4s, Daughteroflove7491, and Jammiedodger15 for reviewing. You guys make my world, y'know. Hugs and virtual chocolate cake to you. **

**Daughteroflove: Haha, you think you know whats gonna happen, but you don't. Mwuahahaha. *laughs evilly* Guess you better read and see what happens, eh?**

**I'm not JKR, nor do I own anything**. If I was I wouldn't be posting this on a fanfiction site, would I? Hmm?**

**** I own Miss Anne Parker, Madame Linden, and St. Adelaide's Academy for Girls.**

**But yeah. **

**Enjoy reading!**

* * *

"Ok . . ." Lavender took a deep breath. "You see, a muggle is someone who is non-magical. That is, they don't have any magical powers."

"Magical powers?" Hermione scoffed. Obviously, Lavender was just being annoying and telling tales. Hermione's mum had told her never, ever to tell tales, and Lavender was just proving to be even more obnoxious than she had been previously. "Yeah," said Lavender, nodding her head sagely, and causing her glossy hair to rustle slightly.

"No, that's just plain ridicules. See here, Lavender- you must be telling tales, because _no one_ has magical powers." Hermione crossed her arms firmly. In the enclosed space of the bathroom stall, Lavender wasn't as mean and scary as she normally was. She was just plain irritating.

Lavender smirked. "That's what you think. Lots of people have magic. They're witches and wizards. I'm a witch," she said smugly.

Hermione sighed. Lavender was truly ridicules. "No. You see magic doesn't actually exist. It's a very nice thought, but you can't go around lying like that. Really." She crossed her arms even tighter.

Lavender giggled meanly. Hermione hadn't even known that it was possible to laugh meanly until she met Lavender. Now, she couldn't imagine anyone giggling without nasty connotations. 'Connotation' was a nice word. Hermione had just learned it earlier that day. She was happily thinking about all the lovely new words she was learning when Lavender's smug, obnoxious words jerked her away from her thoughts.

"You know what, Hermione? I don't know why I bothered telling you. Obviously, you're not mature enough to understand, and you're jealous."

Hermione let Lavender's words sink in. Jealous? Of what? Some silly thing that Lavender made up? "I can't be jealous when it's just some little story your making up for yourself."

"See? That's just it. You're jealous that I'm special and I'm a witch while you're just bookish and ugly and you don't have friends and have got nasty frizzy hair."

Hermione slowly clenched her jaw. It was all very well for Lavender to make up games and stories, but it was _quite_ another thing to insult Hermione that way, straight to her face.

"Take. That. Back." Hermione glared at Lavender with every ounce of force that she could channel.

Lavender merely laughed. "Please. It's true, isn't it?"

Hermione took a deep breath. Her pulse faster than she thought possible, blood rushing in her head, and she could hardly hear above the pound-pound-pound of her heart. Suddenly, she felt a tingling in her fingers, spreading throughout her hands. She hardly knew what was happening as she raised her hand to stretch in front of her, facing Lavender.

With a burst of light, Lavender was lifted into the air, and flew backwards, the door of the bathroom stall flying open. A moment later, Lavender hit the slightly wet tile floor of the bathroom with a bang.

She raised her head to look at Hermione, shot her a hatred filled look, and then proceeded to begin to sob earsplittingly loudly.

Hermione hurried forward. Her hands were shaking, and her head was pounding. She had no idea what had just happened, but now Lavender was on the ground crying- perhaps she was hurt and- oh! Hermione couldn't bear to think about the idea that she had somehow physically hurt someone. Even someone who she despised like Lavender.

A moment later, Miss Parker dashed into the room.

"Lavender, dear? What happened?" She crouched on the ground and helped Lavender sit.

"She pushed me, the nasty jealous girl pushed me!" Lavender sobbed hysterically.

Hermione backed against the wall.

"Who, dear?" Miss Parker looked concernedly at Lavender, noting that there was a bruise forming on her head.

"Her! Hermione Granger!" Lavender wiped her tears away, and lifted a shaking hand to point at Hermione.

Miss Parker's mouth thinned to a grim line. She wasn't a big fan of Hermione Granger, but she could swallow her displeasure in general, but physical violence was going too far.

"Hermione, come with me. We're going to Madame Linden's office," stated Miss Parker darkly, glaring at Hermione.

Hermione blanched. Madame Linden was the headmistress of St. Adelaide's, and she seemed terrifying. Being taken to her office meant that you were in serious trouble. Meanwhile, Miss Parker turned to Lavender, and the look on her face softened a great deal. "Can you go to the Infirmary? I'll come as soon as I've taken Hermione to Madame Linden."

Lavender sniffled and nodded, slowly getting to her feet and slowly leaving the room. Just before she left, Lavender turned around and shot Hermione a dirty look, followed by a smirk.

" I didn't do anything! Please, Miss Parker, I swear, I didn't do anything!" Hermione, now alone with a very angry teacher, began to panic.

"Then tell me exactly how Lavender was pushed and hit her head if you two where the only people in here, and you didn't do it?" Miss Parker's voice was silkily snarky.

Hermione bit her lip, and stared at her shoes. She couldn't very well say that she got angry, and an odd tingling in her fingers caused her to reach out, and then Lavender got blasted backwards. It was ridicules, and Hermione knew that she couldn't very well tell that to Miss Parker, or Madame Linden.

"Exactly. Maybe you should have considered the consequences when you pushed another child over." Miss Parker smoothed out her skirt, and then took Hermione firmly by the forearm. "Now, come on."

Hermione stumbled as she tried to keep up with her teacher. They walked down the grand, if slightly worn, staircase that swept down to the entrance to the school. At the foot of the stairs, Miss Parker turned left, towards a polished mahogany door. A small card was affixed to it, the words ' Headmistress: Madam Linden' emblazoned upon it in neat cursive.

Miss Parker raised her hand and knocked twice on the door, and then resumed her grasp on Hermione's arm.

Her arm was beginning to go numb from the pressure, but Hermione was too nervous to notice. Her breath began to rasp in quick, shallow, pants, and sweat pooled in her hands. What was going to happen? What could she do?

"Come in." A low, aristocratic voice with a polished accent jerked Hermione out of her thoughts.

Miss Parker pushed open the door, and walked in, Hermione in tow.

The office could have been larger, but it was decorated like a palace. Against the far wall where intricately carved bookshelves, that, with the exception of a large space for a huge window, marched up and down the wall. Madame Linden's desk had a marble top, which rested on carved wood legs, and she sat in a huge wingback chair.

Persian carpets in dazzling hues of red and blue cloaked the floor, and gold-framed paintings graced the other walls.

"Anne Parker. And a student. What happened?" Madame Linden slowly lowered the book she was reading. She was a small, elegant woman, with shrewd ice blue eyes and short, gray hair pulled back into a tight bun.

"Madame Linden. Hermione Granger pushed Lavender Brown in the washroom, causing Lavender to be highly distressed, and to gain a large bruise on her head."

"I see." Madame Linden glanced at the ornate gold clock on the far wall. "I'll phone Hermione Granger's parents, I suppose, and for now, she shall sit in here and do schoolwork." Madame Linden hardly looked at Hermione as she spoke, despite the fact that Hermione was the main subject.

Miss Parker only nodded, and then left the room.

Madame Linden gestured to a narrow wooden chair leaning against the wall. " You may sit there. Since you have no schoolwork on you, I think that it would be best that you sit and think about what you have done to your fellow student." Madame Linden fixed Hermione with a hard look, and then returned to her book.

Hermione sighed, and tried to swallow the lump in her throat. Why was this happening? She would never have purposely hurt Lavender, even though she hated her. And now it seemed she was going to get in so much trouble!

Hermione looked at the clock. It was now early afternoon. Her parents would get the call, and it would take them an hour to get to St. Adelaide's.

Feeling much like how she imagined prisoners on the Death Row felt before their executions, Hermione settled down as best she could in the uncomfortable chair. It truly seemed that there was nothing to do but await her fate.

* * *

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_Please, pretty please with Nutella and chocolate sprinkles on top review. _

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_Reviews=love. _

_So. Review. _


	4. Chapter 4

**Heya, peeps. **

**Sorry for the three million year update time. . . **

**But this is the end. Yipee! First multi-chapter fic that I've finished. W00t W00t! *does insane victory dance*. **

**I have to make some responses: **

**GuestFromChap2: Hey, guest. Sorry I forgot you. :( But just so you know, I litterally read your review and it made me day. I'm so touched that you chose to review my little brain-spew, of all things. :) I wanted to write you a PM, but then I couldn't. . . so anyway, thanks! I'm so supermegahappyelated that you liked! And even more that you reviewed! I hope that you like this next chapter!**

**A note in general: There are, I know for sure, people following this story that do not review. Really, guys? Not to be too pushy, but if you like this enough to follow, could you please just review? **

**Thanks, Y'all. **

**You guys're the . (Just heard someone say that, I thought it was weird but oddly cool. Idk.)**

**Oh, yeah. In case none of you realized, I ain't JKR, never will be, and I don't own anything. *brushes tear aside***

* * *

A nervous sort of silence pressed down on the Granger's as they made their way down the winding British roads to St. Adelaide's. Their car was by no means fancy- they'd bought the old gray thing used when Hermione had been born, but it usually bore a cozy air of familiarity and comfort. Not today.

In the driver's seat, Mr. Granger stared stonily ahead, dressed in the dress pants and jacket he wore at their office, his lips pulled into a narrow frown.

Beside him, Mrs. Granger fussed with her hair, tweaked the collar of her tidy beige cashmere sweater, and twiddled with the dial of the radio.

But while neither of the two spoke, the same thoughts were coursing through their respective heads: Their sweet, slightly bossy, smart daughter was in grave trouble for . . . pushing another child?

Neither Mr. nor Mrs. Granger wanted to be the parent that always thinks that their little angel is perfect, even when they are dead wrong, but there was something fishy about the whole story.

Hermione wasn't exactly a terribly strong little girl (Although she did do football at the recreation club . . .) and could barely open a jam jar on her own. It seemed, well, implausible that she would push another child down so hard that the other girl would get a nasty bruise.

"I suppose we'll just see what happened when we get there." Mr. Granger spoke finally, in a tight voice.

"Yes." Mrs. Granger nodded, tapped her nails against the dashboard, turned off the static-y radio. "We'll see what happens when we get there."

The silence felt too heavy, so she carefully turned the radio program back on.

"Darling, for godssakes don't keep turning the goddamn radio on and off. Make a damn choice!"

Mrs. Granger sighed. She knew that her husband wasn't really annoyed, just worried about what was happening. With a twist of her wrist, the radio was once again off, and silence washed over the couple.

* * *

Anne Parker sipped her daily cup of tea, enjoying the staff room at St. Adelaide's. It had been one of her favorite things about the school when she decided to take the job, and it remained her favorite off-hours place to be. It was a large room on the second floor of the old mansion-turned school, with large windows overlooking the moors. Light came in, cold didn't. All in all, it was a lovely combination, thought Anne as she inhaled the warm scent of her usual Earl Gray.

"Tough day, Annie?"

Anne looked up to see her closest friend among fellow teachers, the young, redheaded arts teacher, Matilda Morton, or Mattie to her friends.

"Hallo, Mattie. More than you'd imagine."

"Oh-ho, tell me tell me. I don't have the Year 5's until half past, we've got the time." Mattie plopped down onto the battered-yet-comfy tweed armchair next to Anne.

"Well, this little girl pushed another one over in the powder room today. Downright nasty, the girl who was pushed was distraught, bless her little soul, and the push-er - well, I'm not a fan. She's been dreadfully jealous this whole year yet, and I- I can't say I'm happy that she'll be asked to leave, but I can't say I want that kind of energy around the school, y'know?" Anne had heard her mother's friend's cousin's tarot-reader allegedly mentioning kinds of energy, and she had thought it was a wonderfully interesting thing to say.

"She'll be asked to leave?" Mattie tugged on a strand or copper colored hair that was not quite fastened into her bun.

"Well, you know about the zero-tolerance policy here, right?"

"Hmmm . . . " Mattie thought, nodded, sighed. "It's nasty business, all right, when anyone has to leave. Gets all the children asking questions and delving in and spreading tales."

"Don't I know it? Honestly, Mattie . . . " Anne sighed. "I know the St. Adelaide is the patron saint of friendship, hence the name, but I really feel like at this point, it's the patron saint of _discord_ that we're honoring here."

* * *

Hermione fidgeted in her chair. Madame Linden was sitting ramrod straight in her chair, reading something or other, and frowning as she read pages and pages of what looked like, small, black text.

Hermione's chair was stiff and hard, and she felt as if she would go mad sitting there. She longed to have a distraction of some sort- she didn't really care as to what it was, but something, anything, to spare her from the way waves of panic washed over her, clenching her stomach and making beads of sweat glisten on her pale face and hands. She wanted to sob, to loosen the awful lump in her throat, but there didn't seem to be anything that she could do. She didn't want to cry in front of Madame Linden, that was for sure. So all she could do was wait, nibbling her nails and trying to calm her pounding heart.

* * *

"Mr. Granger, Mrs. Granger. You've arrived." Madame Linden set aside her papers, and smiled icily at the Grangers, before beckoning Hermione from her chair.

Hermione walked forward on shaky legs, feeling as if she was going to choke on the boulder-like lump in her throat.

"Sweetheart," whispered Mrs. Granger, giving her daughter's shoulder a squeeze, "It's all going to be ok. If you say you didn't hurt Lavender, we believe you."

"Ahem." Madame Linden cleared her throat, and the three Grangers immedietly glanced at her.

"As you know, Hermione pushed down another little girl, Lavender Brown, earlier today. As you know, here at St. Adelaide's, we have an absolute zero-tolerance violence policy. Because Hermione here violates those rules, it is my duty to tell you that she will no longer be welcomed here."

Hermione let a little choked sound escape her, and her eyes filled up with tears. "I didn't do anything!"

Madame Linden lowered her gaze to the eight-year-old. "You mean to tell me that it was not you that caused Miss Brown to fall and hit her head?"

"Well . . . " Hermione couldn't very well say that a strange magical power surged out of her and blasted Lavender across the room. "No-"

"Exactly." Madame Linden's lips thinned to a nearly invisibly line.

"So- you're expelling our daughter?" That was Mr. Granger, a fierce look on his face.

"Well, I try to put it in more . . . dignified terms, but yes."

"George, I don't think we want Hermione at a place like this," said Mrs. Granger, frowning angrily.

"I couldn't agree more, Ellen, dear," said Mr. Granger, before turning to glare at Madame Linden. "Consider us _leaving_ the school."

With that, Mr. Granger took his wife by the hand, and steered her out the door, Hermione in tow.

"Don't bother sending the porter, we can collect Hermione's stuff on our own, now."

* * *

"Daddy? Mummy?"

Mr. and Mrs. Granger both swiveled to look at their daughter. (Mr. Granger less than his wife, as he was driving.)

"I'm glad you took me away. I didn't like St. Adelaide's, and I _hate _Lavender Brown."

"Well, dear, we're not saying we're happy that things didn't work out, but it's nice to have you back. Perhaps we'll give the grammer school a go, eh?"

Mrs. Granger squeezed Hermione's hand. "We love you, daddy and I. Always remember that."

* * *

_Ahh, Tragic, non? _

_(My sad attempt at french.)_

_Well, I liked it, but that means absolutly nada. _

_So. . . _

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_What I did wrong? _

_Just take a sec and shoot me a review. _

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_:D_

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_Reviews=Love._


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